Thinking
by mokimik
Summary: Do you know the feeling? That you can't stop thinking about someone, no matter how hard you try? Hermione, Ginny and Tonks do.
1. Hermione

My words, lent from Jo...

Thanks to my Beta and friend Lisa!

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She tried. She really tried. But thinking of something different and totally unrelated to him wasn't that easy.

_Okay, that bench over there. Think about that bench, Hermione. Bench… a bench near the Herbology greenhouses… a class you have with him... no! Wait... bench... keep thinking about the bench... The bench is made of stone... it looks a lot like the one near the Quidditch stands… the one where you have done your homework… and corrected his…aargh! Stupid bench! _

Clearly, the bench-idea wasn't working. But he had to get out of her head... He had to, or she would go crazy any second now…

_Homework! Yes, that's a good one! Homework in potions, homework in Defence – especially that homework, or else Harry would manage a higher grade than she did during the next test… But would there be any test, now that they were going off to look for Horcruxes? No, of course not… they would be on the road... she would be on the road with Harry… and him… aargh! Homework from Herbology, near which is that singularly unhelpful bench… homework in Ancient Runes... a class that he didn't take… no, wait...homework from Muggle studies, a class he also didn't take, although to be fair she had dropped it at the end of third year. His dad would have adored that class…How much will he look like his dad when he's older? Will he get that same fondness about something else? For some_one_ else?_

It took Hermione at least two seconds to realise that even thinking about homework wasn't helping. Her thoughts swirled through her head, and any moment now, she would snap.

_Think about something else, Hermione! There has to be something that you can't relate back to him. _

She needed her sleep. She really did. Tomorrow was going to be a long day again, and having not slept much for the past several nights (mostly because her stupid head couldn't stop thinking), she really needed her sleep.

_Victor..._

She almost snorted at herself. Was she crazy? How _couldn't_ she relate Victor back to him? She would almost immediately think about Ron's weird behaviour and would then spend the rest of the night pondering about what it meant.

_Mum and Dad…I really miss them. I hope they are okay and are taking my warnings about staying inside after dark seriously… even though I couldn't explain everything to them… I mean, the only people to whom I have ever related after finding out about being a witch were Harry…and him… I wonder what my parents think of them… of him…_

If her goal was "not thinking about him," that had been a particularly bad way to accomplish it. Unwanted, an image of him coming over to "meet the parents" sprang into her head. She could almost feel how uncomfortable he was, and in her mind, his head was beet-red and almost exuding heat.

_Aaaaaargh!_

"Hermione? Are you awake?"

She feels a soft tap on her shoulder and hears the whisper tickling her ear.

Slowly turning around in her sleeping bag, which suddenly feels as if she had filled it with lead to make her turning around more embarrassing, she is facing the reason of her insomnia.

He is lying next to her, also in a purple sleeping bag, which clashes terribly with his hair. Fortunately for everyone's eyes (probably only Hermione's, since there are just three of them, and Harry is sleeping), it is dark.

Hermione finds it hard to believe he is lying so close to her, only so she could hear him whisper. Knowing Harry for more than six years, they both know he is a deep sleeper and Ron could have just been a metre further from her: he still would wake her up, since she didn't sleep and he still wouldn't have woken Harry up, since he can't be woken at this time.

"Yes, I am. What's the matter?"

"Can't sleep. And then I heard you sighing and rustling."

"Yes… I can't fall asleep either… can't stop thinking."

"About what?"

"Stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

For a moment, Hermione wants to curse, but that would look rather weird, since it was a pretty normal question. Then, thinking she might have been quiet for too long, she answers:

"My parents."

"Hmm." He is listening intently and, though it's dark, she can feel that his eyes are on her. She feels the urge to explain more.

"They probably don't know what kind of danger we're in…I mean, we don't even know it ourselves, but we know that we are taking great risks...My parents have no clue whatsoever... I wonder if they would have let me go had they known..."

A silence follows. Then:

"They probably wouldn't... My parents know more about the sort of danger we're in. They have a general idea of what we're doing by going out on the road now. Look at the problems I ran into when we wanted to leave. Mum would have tied me up if she hadn't been so shocked. I…I think you made the right choice, not telling them much. It's safer…for you and them."

She sees his silhouette moving, and suddenly, an arm comes out from Ron's sleeping bag, pats her on the head gently and gives her cheek a reassuring pinch. Before Hermione can fully comprehend it, the hand and arm are back in the sleeping bag next to her. She is to startled to say something about it. She isn't even sure if it really happened. After a while, she says:

"Yeah, you're probably right. Thanks, Ron."

"Notting at all, 'Mione. Good night. "

"Good night."

She turns around again, suppressing a string of curses once again. After that conversation with him, and his kind gestures, her chances of sleeping have been reduced to zero.

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Hi everyone!

It's been a while for me to update... I have started a lot of stories, but with all came huge writers' block or something else that prevented me from posting...

This one has been in my head for a while...I'm planning to do something about Tonks and Ginny too, so I need to know what you thought of this one...please review!


	2. Ginny

The brush connected hard with her teeth. If there had been a few reporters and wrestling fans around, Ginny brushing her teeth could very well be considered a wrestling match between the Almighty-Never-To-Be-Fooled-Around-With-BRUSH and the Shiny-Like-Candy-TEETH.

Only that it wasn't. It was just Ginny, brushing her teeth.

And maybe being a little angry and bored.

Just a little bit.

_They left. Left! Of course I saw it coming… I mean, I knew they had to. But there is a difference between leaving, waving goodbye to everyone, maybe becoming a bit emotional and sharing a few good hugs, and leaving the way they did!_

It had been around dawn when it happened. Ginny, being a light sleeper, heard the door of her bedroom open and close three times. It felt like a dream, and at the same time completely real, to see Hermione pull away the sheets of her bed and stand up, fully dressed. Ginny looked at her, and Hermione, seeing that she was awake, hugged her, looked at her and nodded. Ginny had been unable to say anything.

_What would Hermione have done if I hadn't woken up? Would she just have left? Or would she have done the same as my brother?_

A few minutes after Hermione left, Ginny heard her door opening again. Her brother was standing there, hesitating in the doorway. Ginny sat up straight, looked him in the eyes and nodded. Ron hugged her and whispered, "We promised not to say goodbye to everyone, but I couldn't. I had to. Be strong."

Then, he nodded and left.

She wasn't angry at Ron. No, Ron was not to blame. No matter how distant they were sometimes, they still were family, and Ginny heard later that no one else of her family had gotten a Ron-Hug that night. Clearly that had to count for something. The only thing she felt towards Ron was jealousy, because he was off, saving the world, and she was stuck here, cleaning the kitchen... _again._ Thinking about them leaving, _again_. Trying to stop thinking about them leaving, _again_. Her mind wandering, as was inevitable, to the strangest goodbye she had gotten that night.

_But why didn't he give me a hug? Why did he just stand in the doorway, waiting, doing nothing? That's almost worse than not coming to see me. _

When Ron left, another pair of feet came up the stairs and stood still before her door. The door had opened, and Ginny didn't need to look up to know who it was, though she couldn't help but glance up. For a moment, they looked at each other, and then, when Ginny half-expected him to give her a hug or a kiss or at least a hand or a word, he had turned around and left.

_Is it possible to hate and love someone at the same time? Because clearly, this is what it must feel like. I can't stand thinking about him, and yet, that's all I have done for the past six months, two weeks and five days._

The toothbrush made her gums almost bleed. She spat into the sink and started brushing her hair. Also another violent game, but now between The-Red-Mane-Of-Doom and the Tangling-Terminator-Brush…

_What did that look mean? Was it an I'm-sorry-but-I-have-to look? Had it been an I-love-you look? Would it, perhaps, be the last look he gave her of any kind? _

He and the rest of the world had demanded the impossible from her: patience. To her, patience couldn't be defeated in a wrestling match. To survive against wanting to run out and help save the world, you would need something with which to distract yourself in the meantime, and time. But Ginny had nothing to distract herself with: Hogwarts had been closed. And time, Ginny knew, was running out.

The more people who were trying to protect her by keeping information from her –Fred and George had lately been added to that group – the more Ginny had wanted to know. As the youngest, she had learned early in life that if grown-ups were whispering, there was something going on, something that was worth risking punishment to hear.

_Maybe that's why I like him. I probably only heard his name in whispers. _

She knew that if she started dreaming of him this early in the morning, she would drive herself crazy by nightfall, constantly repeating things in her head. Still, she couldn't help herself.

_My school crush in first and second year had nothing to do with him… true, I couldn't stop thinking about him, but that was more because I was in awe of him. When Ron proposed that Harry go with me to the Yule Ball, I almost wanted to throw something at him; how could he suggest that, just after I found someone else?_

_Only in my fourth year did I realise that Harry was far from perfect. He had tantrums, behaved unreasonablly towards his friends, and couldn't deal with frustration properly. _

_Yeah, like you can handle that perfectly,_ said the little voice in her head. _You make up imaginary fights between your brush and your hair, and start to yell at Mum for every single thing you can come up with._

She looked at the hairbrush which was now red from the hairs in it, and had to give the little voice credit for being entirely correct.

_But still I love him. He's been through a lot, and though I will eat this brush -with the hairs- before I tell that to Harry, he has the right to be frustrated with the world. Just as I have the right to be extremely bored and extremely mad at him for leaving me in the dark. _

She had received two letters in the past six months, two weeks and five days. Two. Though the one from Ron at Christmas could hardly be counted as a letter; it was covered in mud, and all it said was: _Happy Christmas everyone! We're okay. _

_We're okay? How could they be okay? What did Ron mean by 'okay'? Did that mean they hadn't been okay before? And how good was okay? Was it a we're-okay-since we-are-still-alive-okay, or was it more like a we're-okay-because-we-are-making- progress-okay?_

_And more importantly, did 'we' include Harry? Because Harry hadn't been okay since Dumbledore's funeral._

… _Harry…_

Immediately, she saw him in her mind: he was laughing, and talking with Bill on her brother's wedding day. She saw him exchanging some things with the twins, looking around to check that her mum wasn't nearby. She saw him pushing Ron, forcing him to stumble into Hermione's arms, she saw him very close as he danced with her…

_This won't do your mood any good – those memories are six months, two weeks and four days old…_

Sighing, she walked downstairs, heading for the breakfast table. It was weird for her to be at home all of the time (okay, they had made a few trips to Grimmauld Place, but still!), but it was even weirder to see the table always set only for three: her parents and herself. Her whole life, she had been used to seeing the table full of people, but now, it radiated emptiness. She sighed again, and started to eat her eggs.

"Good morning, dear."

"Morning, Dad."

Her father yawned and explained, "I had the nightshift for the Order, so I called in sick to work. Anything you might want to do today with your old man?"

Ginny shrugged. Ironically, she thought of the time when her parents had had to divide their attention between seven kids, when she would have loved to have her dad all day to herself.

"We could play chess, or Exploding Snap, or you could explain to me what you learned in Muggle Studies last year…," he continues, adding the last one a bit too hopefully.

"Um… Mum told me she wanted to clean the attic today," Ginny said, realising that she'd spent a great deal of the past few months cleaning the Burrow.

Her dad frowned and then said:

"You know, you and your mother have been cleaning for too long now. I know you don't like it here at home, and that's the way it should be, Ginny."

Ginny looked up, surprised.

"No, don't misunderstand me, I think it's lovely that you're here, but you're not supposed to be here. You should be at school. I've been thinking about it for a while, and I think I've come up with a solution. What would you say to being tutored by members of the Order?"

Ginny blinked.

"It will be a distraction, both for the Order-members as for you. Lupin and McGonagall have already taught you before, Tonks is excellent in any charms not related to cleaning, and I'm sure your mother could tell you quite a lot about Herbology. It might not be all the classes you wanted to take this year, but it will give you a distraction, and will at least keep your mind of from worrying about Harry, your brother and Hermione. What do you—"

But her father couldn't even finish his sentence. Ginny had thrown arms around her father's neck and was now hugging him very, very tightly.

"Shall I take that as a yes?"

"Yes! I would love to study again. Anything to keep me busy, Dad!"

"You've been thinking about him a lot, haven't you?"

He looked at her knowingly, and Ginny immediately knew that her father wasn't talking about his youngest son. She nodded. Since her arrival in June, she hadn't spoken a word about her thing(relationship sounded way too serious) with Harry to her parents.

"Have you thought about what today is?"

Ginny quirked her eyebrows…She had lost track of both dates and days a long time ago. It was the second week in February…that would probably make it…

"Valentine's Day!" she groaned. Inwardly, she could not help but think of the card she had given Harry five years ago.

"I got you something…Found it, actually, during my night shift for the Order."

Ginny barely understood a word he was saying.

_If Dad has found a romantic gift, why would he give it to me? Why not to Mum? _

Her dad handed her the 'gift'. Ginny looked at him sceptically.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"No, of course not. If it was, I would tell you. Or I would have brought something from Fred and George. Not this."

'This' was the only word that could describe Ginny's gift. It was a brown, muddy piece of parchment, all crumpled up. It was like the piece of parchment you would find fallen behind your desk upon pulling that item of furniture away from the wall. It was the sort of 'gift' Ginny would probably have found at school, at the end of the day, in the back of the classroom, when more than hundred of feet had stamped on it.

When her dad kept looking expectantly at her, she realised there was one other crumpled parchment, folded up in the other one; it looked even older than the first. Ginny opened it, and as soon as she read the first line, the tune Fred and George had invented some years ago on these words slipped into her mind.

_His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,_

_His hair is as dark as a blackboard._

_I wish he was mine, he's really divine, _

_The hero who conquered the Dark Lord._

Flabbergasted, she looked at her dad. If she was not mistaken, this was the same parchment the dwarf had held so many years ago. How else could it be her own handwriting?

_Did Dad track down the dwarf? Why? Or did Fred and George buy it off the elf and keep it because of the 'marvellous lyrics'? _

"Let me explain. Last night at Grimmauld Place, I ran into Tonks. She had just returned from a night-shift patrolling in…well, let's not talk about that. Anyway, she saw Ron a few days ago. She said he asked to her to tell me that he, Harry and Hermione are fine and 'making progress', whatever that means. He also gave her this, with the message that it was for you and that Harry had been walking around with it for quite a long time. If I may believe Tonks, Ron claimed he had to steal it from Harry in his sleep in order to read it, and later give it to you. Tonks wanted to give it to you earlier, but…."

But Ginny had stopped listening, because her eyes had fallen on the second parchment. There were a lot of words on it, but most of them were crossed out. At the bottom of the parchment, however, there were some lines that were relatively legible, and Ginny read:

_Her eyes are the pools I'm lost in, _

_Her hair is as red as any Weasley of your sort, _

_You will be mine, but just wait for some time, _

_Because I have to conquer the Dark Lord. _

_PS: I now understand your difficulties with writing poems. Me too. Next time, I'll also buy chocolates._

Her mind flew back to the afternoon at the lake, just after they had won the Quidditch Cup. She remembered telling Harry that she had written the poem and that she hated it, and promised never to do such thing again, because, "Clearly I'm not very good with poems. Next time, I'll buy you chocolates."

Her dad smiled at her, and said her name. Ginny snapped back to the present.

"So, how about those lessons then? Shall I ask your mother if she could start this afternoon?"

Ginny blinked and smiled broadly at her dad. How could he think, that after that note, and the nice memories it brought back, she could be concentrating this afternoon on Herbology?

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hey there!

Okay, so it took me a bit longer than I had planned to get this up, but I hope you still like it! After this chapter, the final one about Tonks will come: I have decided that I will only make chapters from the female perspective... and since all the chapters are in the future, (lily can't be made) there are no more girls to write about... unless you guys have any idea's!!!

huge thanks to my beta Lisa, and thumps up for Jo Rowling, for anouncing the book release yesterday!

x-mokimik-x


	3. Tonks

_Ugh…I look like crap._

Her reflection in the mirror seemed to agree, because it scrunched up its nose and gave her hair a darker tint of brown and more freckles, which she hoped would make her look a bit more alive. She could now easily be mistaken for Hermione's older sister, except that her face was a bit… less cautious, and looked as though the brain behind it was not nearly as fond of books.

_Fond of books... just like...Nope, you're not going to think about him!_

The face in the mirror scrunched up again, this time not to change her appearance, but from worry.

She had been with boys before. There had been that cute Ravenclaw a year higher than she had been…Terry. There had been that Auror from Norway named Finn. There had even been (not so long ago, actually) the lead-singer of the Weird Sisters, Paul. But they all had been exactly what she had expected them to be. _Boys_.

_He's different. He's… so vulnerable. So shy. So certain that romance isn't meant for him. _

Thinking about his rejection of her made her face almost scrunch up again, to bring back a mousy-haired woman she didn't know… and who certainly looked like crap.

She was glad that time was over. Far in the back of her head, she heard a voice that sounded a lot like her mother: "_If Nymphadora really wants something, she will get it, mark my words."_

_Consider them marked, mum. They have been marked for a long time, so long that the marking is at least as dark as the words. _

She walked over to the kitchen (carefully avoiding a chair at her left, and the pile of clothing at her right) and started to make breakfast. She thought about him and it made her crazy.

_It was a full moon last night. That's why you look like crap. You've been thinking too much, or at least sleeping very badly. What would he be doing right now? He's probably still sleeping. Or he might be in pain, trying to heal his wounds. Or… he is trying to remember what he did last night, and whether he saved someone… or killed them. Stop. _

She shook her head. This would only drive her mad, and her worrying didn't help at all. She couldn't do anything for him right now. With a tap of her wand, the radio sprang back to life, and started playing a song by the Weird Sisters. Somehow, that didn't remind her of Paul at all; it actually reminded her more of Remus. She remembered how they had danced to this very song during the New Year's gathering she had held at her place.

_If only he wouldn't be so stubborn! He really wants to help the Order by doing this! He can do other things, but he simply doesn't want to!_

She remembered their last argument. It had been about him leaving the werewolves. She had almost cried, asking him repeatedly why he wouldn't leave them. And every time he patiently explained that he couldn't, that he was the only guy who fit the job description. She understood, and at the same time, she hated herself for understanding.

She wondered how he could have gotten such a low self-esteem. He probably had been born that way. Or it had to do with the fact that the whole wizard community didn't accept his illness and treated him like it was his own fault. She sighed. If she didn't watch out, she would be thinking in just as a depressive tone as he usually did.

Making herself breakfast, she stopped wondering as her owl Bob made an appearance. Her mouth turned almost immediately into a smile: perhaps it was news from Remus! Impatience taking over, she almost ripped the letter off Bob's leg; he hooted indignantly and started to nip at her cornflakes as soon as Tonks had gotten the letter.

_My dearest Tonks (and here you thought I would never stop calling you Nymphadora!)_

_I hope you are well and have changed that hair: really, from the last pictures you sent me, I can tell that green is absolutely not your colour, or at least not when you have yellow stripes in it and it's standing straight up. Please tell me that the picture was only for cheering me up, or scaring me, or at least for trying to get a reaction out of me. Whatever your intent, you were successful at all three._

_My work is going as I planned: I'm actually writing this just before I will continue with doing it. I hope I can send Bob away before we will have that major order coming in. (You might want to check that your owl's tail is still in place. Some of my colleagues would consider yanking it to be quite a joke, the bastards.)_

Quickly, so as not to divert her attention from the letter, Tonks glanced at Bob, who looked just fine and was now sitting happily on her wardrobe, tail and all.

_My boss told me yesterday that I can go home soon. I expect this to be the last month. I'm not sure if I'm officially off the job, but at least for the next few months, I will have some other assignments (something about an old friend of mine – have you been in his mother's home lately?)_

_I'm not sure how to take your comment about starting your own rock band if I do not return soon. I hope I have prevented this occurrence with the aforementioned information. If not, please consider another name: I don't think that "Bob and his owner" is very catchy and I'm also not exactly sure that an owl playing the tambourine is such a good idea, or, for that matter, not a crime against animal rights. _

_I love you, and I hope you are well and see you soon. _

_Yours, _

_Remus. _

Tonks wasn't sure how many emotions she felt when she finished reading his letter – relief, since it was a light-hearted one; rather queer, since the letter was vague about why the Order didn't need Remus for this job anymore; happiness, since he would be back soon; emptiness, since the letter wasn't that long…but they were all mixed into one furry ball in her stomach.

_This is why I love him. We complete each other. When I'm too happy, he's a bit more pessimistic and vice versa. We need each other to fight, laugh, play, live and love in this world. _

Her face scrunched up, revealing a person sporting red spikes with purple tips, one spike standing out horizontally like a rhinoceros' horn.

"Come down off the wardrobe, Bob. We need to find you a tambourine and take a picture for Remus."

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A bit later then planned, but here's the final chapter of Thinking... I'm sorry, I know I had the idea of also writing from the boy's perspective, but (big shocker) I'm not a boy, I'm 17 and I barely understand a thing about them...

Thanks to Jo for inventing these characters (they're still hers, by the way) and for Lisa, my beta...

I'm busy with another long story, this time about Hermione and Ginny (don't worry, no slash), but it will take a while before I will post the first chapter...

the more you guys will review, the sooner I will reply to you and post more stories...


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